The Barney
by crackers4jenn
Summary: Marshall is a saboteur. But a well-intentioned one. Spoilers for the latest episode!


Barney shook out the full-body cringe, limbs locking. Oh, god. Limbs locking. It was that bad.

"C'mon," Marshall verbally eye-rolled. "How does that even work?"

His throat was closing. That's what it was. Lack of oxygen to the brain, a crippling panic attack. Still. A man had his appearances to keep. Otherwise, what was he? Ted? Ted Mosby at the crux, the very debilitating crux, of his non-awesome? No. No good. Loosening his tie enough to give him some breathing room but not enough to drag him to the ugly side of informal, Barney said, "Reverse psychology. A woman's game. Cruel, effective. Works every time."

Fingers splayed across the table, Marshall leaned forward. "Dude, but you--"

"Ah, ah, ah!" he quieted him, then, with a forceful, menacing whisper, "She pulled out the Mosby. A brilliant defensive attack, admittedly, if not ultimately more see through than your mesh whatever in God's name that thing is that passes for a shirt but is really an eye-sore of an abomination."

Marshall glared the unwavering glare of the offended. "I wear it on really breezy days. It feels _good_, alright?"

A flick of the wrist to cease the lesser one of his arguments. "Noted and discarded. I'm saying, Robin played the Mosby card. So I..."

He must've recognized that deepening gleam in Barney's eye for what it was, because Marshall started going, "Oh, no. Barney, _no_."

"Get ready to witness a power play so awesome, the people will talk. In the streets, people will talk. In elevators. Oh, they will talk." Followed up with a mood-effective laugh.

Marshall seemed less than awed. "No. No, no. No! I can't be a part of this," he muttered, and slid out of the table's booth seating.

"Fine!" Barney shouted to his departing form. "Glance upon this spectacle from afar! Cower in your corner of ultimate lameitude and broken bro code! That's right! Broken bro code! You're dead to me, Marshall, dead to--" The waitress passed by. "He--?"

"Out the door three minutes ago? Yeah."

"Ah, okay, then."

--------------------------------

"Heeeeey, Robin," Barney said, a clashing of syllables and vowels.

Right away, she sensed something. "Hey?"

"Sit down."

"...I am."

"Level 1: achieved."

"Okay, what?" The patience of the female kind. Limited and so very much something you did not want to be on the unfortunate side of. Unfortunately, he currently was. With some mistrust, she eyeballed him. "You're doing something, I know it, I don't _like_ it, so you might as well just come out and tell me what it is before _I_ do something I'll feel bad about for two seconds before I remember you totally deserve it."

"Robin, Robin, Robin." The tone equivalent of a pat on the back. "So cynical and, yet, all I hear is _Daddy, love me._ Let your walls down."

It was hard to tell whether her response of laughter was one born forth from amusement at his expense or by default of her defense mechanisms. "I happen to be on good terms with my Dad."

Patronizing. "Aw. Is that right?"

"Excellent, even."

"What's that? Do I detect the speech pattern of the _made-up load of bull-crap_?"

A valiant tactic: "Bull-crap? Who says that? In the year 2009?"

"I'm sorry, let me Canadize that for you: moose-crap."

"Hah-hah. That's not even a real word."

He waved his hand. "Semantics. I hate semantics. The argument of commoners. Oh, god," he winced. "I'm _commoning_."

"This is what you called me down here for?" She started to get up. "I have better things to do today. Like, clean my entire apartment. Or watch some paint dry. Catch a Lord of the Rings marathon--"

"Ohhh, is one playing?"

She leveled him with a squinty-eyed stare.

"Right! Not the point! Relax, Scherbatsky. Sit back. We need to talk."

Because she was loyal, if not to a fault, she did stop edging out of the seat, but she didn't relax. "We need to talk? What is this, oh my god, _are you breaking up with me_?" she gasped with a mocking intake of air that felt like she'd sucked it out of him with a Hoover.

He stared back sourly. "Funny. Very funny."

"What, then? Invoking the Apocalypse? And on this day, they shall write _'we need to talk'_ as the catalyst that started it all--"

"You," he started, leaned forward, argument on the tip of his tongue. Then he noticed that she'd fluffed her bangs or sprayed them with some kind of grossly priced girl product and it was not altogether an unattractive look. Exact opposite, actually.

"Gotta tell you, Barney," she said, settled again. Arms crossed and mouth set in a thin little line. Fluffed hair and all. "You are losing some serious edge here."

"Edge," he scoffed. "I am the edge-master. I walk the edge. I... so... get... _edge-y._"

"Yeah, _al_right. Listen, I've had a really long day, so if you could just get to the point sometime soon."

He pondered. "Point, point. Did I have a--? Oh, yes! Right. The point. You _like_ me."

Poof went her steely determination. "Wh...at?" she laughed. "I don't... _That_--I'll tell you what. That is..."

"But what's that? You don't just _like_ me? You _like_-like me? What up! Confession high-five!"

She ignored the palm looming in front of her face. "Yeah, well, _you_ like _me_. You like me a lot. In fact, you _love_ me."

And the palm withered back to the table. "Everything I have ever masterfully crafted that has crumbled to its foundation can henceforth be traced back to _Lily_."

"Why are you growling her name like that? Besides, you were ready to spill the beans."

"Pffft. Was not. So... was not."

She lifted her voice and mocked, "Oh, Robin, I have something to tell you."

"Uh, _yeah_. My blog reached its millionth viewer mark. Big news. Tell-your-friends news."

Some of her bravado kicked the bucket. "Oh."

"Which you'd _know_ if any of you so-called friends bothered to _read_ it. Honestly, my millions don't understand this blog black-out you people constrict upon me."

"_Yen_," she emphasized. "Mill_ion_."

"Again! With the semantics! You're like a semantic-wielding sorceress."

"Yes," she drawled, "_or_ I'm a fact pointing out non-wizard."

Another dismissive gesture in the form of a double-shrug. Shrug one signified the actual dismissing. Shrug two was just an emphasis.

"Look," she began, but her voice took that soft dip that usually came attached with some kind of brush-off. Like, _Look, I think you have really amazing abs, but I'm just not into threesomes_ or, _Look, we can't just approve of your international communications regarding nuclear warheads without some kind of requisite legal briefing_. Not a good sign. She gave him the doe eyes, too, which was even less of a good sign. "I'm just going to say it. Why not? We're both adults. Consenting adults."

"Ohh, yeah."

A moment to give him the _Really, Barney? Really?_ stare. "We kissed. A single, chaste, verging on--"

"A_maaaaaay_zing," he filled in on a falsetto. Off her pointed look, he added, "Just saying."

"Okay, so it was a good kiss."

"Good? Break out the thesaurus every once in a while, would ya? It was--"

"A_maaay_zing," she snarked with an eyeroll. "Yes, got it, added to my wordbank. But." The sympathy grimace. "We're friends."

Barney scoffed. "And? Friends kiss friends all the time."

"In _France_."

"Which is a letter-for-letter replacement of _Canada_. True story. Look it up."

"Barney... I like being your friend."

"You like kissing me," he tried. Maybe it was a little desperate. A little pathetic.

"Okay. Not gonna lie, here. I do. But--"

"Hey!" a voice to their respective sides barged in. "Would you lookey here. Friends! Friends of ours. Hey, Marshall, it's our friends."

Marshall and Lily stood at the brunt of the table, a couple of do-badding patrons on a mission of injustice.

"Hello, Barney," said Marshall, stiffly. Like one of those bad ventriloquists you see that need a good ol' smack to the head and switch of career. "Hello, Robin. What an unexpected run-in with our two mutual friends."

Robin sighed and leaned away.

Barney started to protest, but protests were made pointless when Marshall neanderthaled his way into Barney's side of the booth. Lily was a little more subtle in getting in her side, but she did shoot Barney one of those _This is for your own good_ patent Lily stares that Robin only missed because Robin was busy scooting out of the other side of the table.

"I need to--" she said, and Lily was instantly up and on the go, too.

"Oh! I'll go with you. That is what I will do." Robin had turned around to question the rambling tone Lily was possessed with in the grip of uncomfortable situations, but Lily threw her off with a forced fake smile.

To Barney, Lily whispered with a severity, "_We will talk later_." It did not sound ideal.

As they headed for the exit, Barney loudly said, "Okay, Robin, see you later!" and then hissed at the betrayer beside him, "Saboteur!"

Marshall's hands flew up in the air. "Listen, man. I couldn't let you do that."

Thumping his head against the back of the booth, Barney whined, "Do what? Dance in the wading pools of true love and awesome-squared?"

"I promised against this. I signed a contract." Marshall's voice was low with urgency now. "Signing a contract is legally binding in the state of New York. There could be consequences." The wide eyes he ended that sentiment with spoke not so much about real legal consequences, but Lily-related ones.

So Barney sighed. "Spill."

Marshall cleared his throat. "You know how Ted sometimes... Ted-outs about things? Important things?"

"Uh, yeah, I only came up with it myself--" Realization sunk in, fast. Barney sat up and gasped, "No!"

The sympathetic look Marshall had been wearing upon arrival doubled. "We call it--"

"Don't say it."

"The Barney."

And Barney flung himself back against the booth. "It's like a burning in my heart," he quavered.

"It's just, sometimes you self-destruct."

Barney swung a hand up and down his body. "Does this look like destructing to you? Besides, this suit is destruction-free. The end of the world could rain upon us all, and still, this suit would survive. It's the _I Am Legend_ of suits."

"The word I like to use is 'annihilate', actually. I was out-voted three-to-one."

He started to sputter, limp no more. "Three... three to... there have been _votes_?"

Marshall actually winced. "Sort of. Uh, I was going through a chart phase... real intense, it sort of looked really bleak there for a while--"

"I remember the phase," Barney snapped. "I terminated the phase. I corralled those," he cried out, "oh god, those traitors. I corralled them and together we led a march to intervene. And they were _conspiring with the enemy the whole time_. I can't--don't look at me! I've been _duped_. Like a ditchable prom date who already gave away her virginity to the gym teacher. What is the world coming to?"

Marshall slugged Barney on the shoulder. Yeah, that hurt. "Listen, man," he said, despite the gargling breathing noises Barney could just barely muster, "we talked and decided and, you'll see. This is for your own good."

Through the pain, Barney managed, "Never."

"She gave you the Mosby. Lily's right. You just need to let things cool down--"

"The Bro Code, article six-forty-two! Bros only deflect when, a) the hottie is a nottie, b) there is a threatening spousal figure looming in the background unforeseen in the haze of lust, and c) when the two most awesome people on the planet are clearly supposed to get together!" Again he hissed, "Saboteur!" It had more feeling behind it that time.

Marshall began inching out of the booth. "The Barney. It isn't just about self-destructing. It's impulse. Bad impulse." He was standing now, a giant looming overhead. "Don't do this unless you're sure. It's _Robin_."

That hit Barney in the gut. Of course, the reaction to show was to scoff. "Uh, yeah. Duh."

"Me and Lil, we're behind you guys--100 percent. But not like this." Rapping his knuckles on the table, Marshall put on a smile. "Gotta go make sure Lily isn't out empathy buying. But we're good?"

"Yeah, c'mon," Barney _pffffted_ him, his own smile pasted on. "Go on, get out of here."

As Marshall left, Barney called over the waitress.

Feelings, distinctly Ted-type feelings, were shoved way down while she jutted a hip and hoisted her tray of drinks to the side. "Yeah?"

Unseen by the untrained human eye, Barney did a little wiggle that set up the sparks he kept hidden at all times within his sleeves. "Hey," he purred, eyes roving, "do you like... magic?" A shout for effect and a shimmy of his hands and, poof, a ball of fire flared up between them.

"And that," he told her, "is just the warm-up."

A wink sealed the deal.

And he was only 90% thinking of Robin when he took Debra-the-waitress back home.

***


End file.
